Lymantria dispar

Lymantria dispar


“My baby Benny!”
“Ma, please don’t call me that,” Benny said as he attempted to simultaneously hold the phone between his ear and shoulder and sweep the front porch.
“But you’re my baby,” his mother protested.
“I know that Ma, I just mean…I’m a grown man. Can I perhaps stop being your baby now?”
His mother laughed heartily and then broke into a fit of coughing. When she was done she managed to say, “Of course not. Never!”
Benny rolled his eyes to himself. The goddamn rain had created a paste of mud that was layered thickly on the wooden slats of the porch. He didn’t have time for his mother’s protestations right now.
“Have you heard from Mia?’
“Ma!”
“I”m just asking, sweetheart. Maybe if you let her come back she —”
“Jesus,” he said, cutting her off. “She’s not coming back here. I won’t let her back here.”
“My baby Benny, she was the best thing that ever happened to you. She just made a mistake. Forgiveness is God’s way.”
Benny stopped sweeping and rubbed his eyes, “Ma. That may be God’s way, but it’s not mine. What’s done is done and I won’t discuss it anymore.”
“But…”
“No. Ma. She broke our vows and it’s done.” She broke my heart, and it’s done.
“Hm.”
“Hm what?”
“I’m just wondering what you will do now, my baby Benny.”
Benny shook his head to himself, “Ma, I’ll be fine. Trust me. Hey, I have to go. I love you, okay?”
“Okay. I love you too, my baby Benny.”
Benny ended the call before he said something he would regret. He finished sweeping the porch and went inside to pretend like there was something in the fridge for dinner. There was nothing in the fridge, and the whiskey bottle was empty. He stared at it. Nights like this, they — he and Mia — would order pizza and then forget it to cool on the kitchen counter while they had sex on the edge of the bed or up against the bathroom wall. Nights like this had been perfect. Late, lazy Sundays,where they’d stumble around half dressed, toss the pizza in the fridge and then fall onto the sheets like they were still newlyweds.
Nights like that had been perfect. Until they weren’t anymore.

Benny hung in the hall a moment before he grabbed his keys and wallet and left his house to linger without him, cold. Their house. Without her.

“Missa Benny!” called the tiny bespectacled girl behind the cash register, “you want shor’ soup and black bean?”
“Yes ma’am, and pork dumplings tonight please Leena.” Benny felt embarrassment at the fact she knew exactly what he would order. He also felt a mild ache when he had noticed, a few weeks back, that Leena had stopped asking where ‘Miss Mia’ was. He admired that she continued to serve him with a smile devoid of pity — something most people around him failed to accomplish.
“Be five minna, Missa Benny. We slow tonight.” She did a thumbs-up and stuck out her tongue. The girl was adorable.
Benny felt better already and took a seat in the corner to wait. He liked to watch the neighbourhood drift by outside the dirty glass windows. When his hand had strayed to his pocket more than three times he stood up abruptly and called back to the kitchen, “Leena! I’m just going to Alberto’s across the street, be back in a jiffy!”
He got an Okay, Missa Benny! from somewhere behind the stove vents and pushed out of the swing door. It was cold, coming on dark. Alberto’s was deserted.
“Benny D. Long time since I’ve seen you here kiddo,” said Alberto from behind his long marble counter.
Benny smiled, “Al. Good to see you. Guess it’s been a long time since I needed to be here.”
“Fair ‘nuff,” Alberto looked back down at his book and left him to peruse in silence.
Benny trailed his eyes over the racks of imported cured meats and tins of spices and packets of dried chilli. When he came to the liquor, he gingerly fingered a dusty bottle of Pendleton. He didn’t hang around to change his mind.
“That’s twenty-five, kiddo.”
“Shelf said thirty-five, Al.”
“No doubt it did, but I know a woman-shaped hole when I see it. Know it now, when I say it boy…ain’t no cure for that.”
Benny felt himself close to tears and slapped a fifty on the counter before he left without his change. Alberto was trying to be nice but it was no use. The night closed in tight around him as he stalked back across the street, to the warmth of Leena’s domain. It was time to get the food and go home.
Just as he was about to call out to Leena, his phone binged in his pocket.

    hey

It was Mia. Fuck. He didn’t respond. He put the phone on the seat next to him and clenched both hands into fists. He wanted to scream. He wanted to set the ground at his feet on fire.

    just thought you might feel like talking?

Benny felt his breath, unsteady and shaking in his chest. He didn’t feel like talking, not at all. He felt like yelling, cursing. He felt like hurting her. He stopped the spiral and brought calm to his heartbeat. He looked up to see Leena’s broad smile.
“Missa Benny, you all good to go.” She held the bag out to him and winked.
Benny gratefully took the bag and retreated to his car. Inside, his phone binged again. He turned it to vibrate and jammed it in his pocket. On the way home he could see nothing but the pale, naked hips of his wife on top of their neighbour, Marty Stills. Ex-wife.

The porch still looked pretty dirty but it was too dark by then to do anything about it. He dumped the Chinese takeout on the kitchen bench and poured a finger of the Pendleton. Benny looked around — everything was as it always had been. And everything was different. The kitchen was okay but the bedroom was an absolute no-fly zone. He could smell her in there. And in the upstairs shower, which sucked because the downstairs shower was cold as fuck and didn’t have heat lamps or a decent shower head. Not to mention, jerking off down there made him feel like a teenager. He’d been sleeping in the living room for two months. He couldn’t remember to eat breakfast. His back hurt. His beard was scrappy. And then his phone buzzed in his pocket.

    baby, you know i still love you, right?

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. Benny calmly turned the phone on do-not-disturb and placed it face down next to his dinner. He sipped the Pendleton. It had cooled considerably — time to put the heat on. Taking his pork dumplings to the couch and turning on the tv and the AC, Benny felt marginally better but still found himself going around in the same circles as always. He wanted to ask Mia everything, but he didn’t want to know. He wanted her to say sorry, but he didn’t want to hear it again. He ached to look at her and touch her, but he couldn’t stand the sight of her and actual contact might drive him to do something awful.
Everything was shit.

He glanced over at his phone resting on the kitchen bench and that was when he saw it — a soft, grey and beige winged moth — it fluttered across right in front of him before darting up toward the living room lightbulb. Benny watched it smack into the bulb a few times and then he lost interest, there was a new episode of Law & Order on one of the channels.

Ah hour later, he was a third of the way through the bottle and had his feet tucked up underneath an old blanket on the couch when he heard a knock at the door. Benny hauled himself up and wondered who could possibly need him right now. He opened the door.
“Benny,” Marty said, giving a half smile.
“Marty.”
“I uhhh, I never got the chance to say sorry. I…”
“Forget it Marty. I get it. But sorry won’t really fix anything.”
Marty was about the same height as Benny, but a lot wider; bulkier. He probably had a better cock. A nicer cock. He probably knew more tricks. He probably made her…
“Benny, I…we never meant to hurt you. We just, we got carried away.”
Benny moved to close the door, “Clearly.”
“No, really,” Marty pressed his hand against the wood.
“What do you want, Marty? You want to come over here and make yourself feel better? Fine. Feel great. Because you fucked my wife. And now she’s not my wife anymore. Good job Marty.” He said it all very calmly, but Benny could feel the anger brewing in him. He needed to close the door and get another drink.
Marty took his hand away from the wood and retreated. As he did, a soft, grey and beige winged moth looped out from behind Benny’s arm and slipped through the door before he closed it. Benny found himself pressed flush to the gate at that point. In the kitchen he fumbled with his phone and hurriedly replied to Mia.

    i don’t love you an inch anymore. don’t come for your shit, i'll send it. don’t msg me anymore. i’m done.

So many don’ts. Benny felt like an asshole. The tears finally came then. They were silent, slightly drunk tears. Hot, fat drops of why and why and why. He wanted to throw his phone out the window. He wanted to pretend he couldn’t feel his wedding ring up in the bedroom, making a circular dent in the side table with all it’s awful weight.
As the tears fell, he thought about Mia’s soft lips, her thin fingers, the way she did her make up for work — thick black eyes and long black lashes. He thought about the way it was always slightly smudged when she got home. He thought about her breasts, the left one always brimming out of her bra, and he thought about the smooth, pale cheeks of her butt — they were so smooth, so soft and touchable. Touched by Marty.
Everything was shit. Everything was ruined. Whisky and Chinese takeout wasn’t even close to a bandaid.
He wanted to get his phone and message her again. He wanted to say sorry for being angry. He wanted to invite her over. He wanted to fuck her, one last time. A moth landed on his knee, left a powdery imprint on his work pants and then flitted off toward the kitchen.
Benny didn’t move, he only blinked. Once, twice — he was aware that this night had happened at least a dozen times since he’d kicked her out. It certainly wasn’t the first night and it wouldn’t be the last. Don’t get it wrong, he knew this was a downward-spiral-kind-of-night, he was just a little too far past tired to really give it his all. Seeing Marty had been the nail; hammered home.
Benny couldn’t place it; was he not there enough? Did he not love her enough? Was he just not enough? After another glass he came to the conclusion that it didn’t matter, not really. His downward-spiral-kind-of-night had lost most of its momentum and his phone battery was dead. Probably good luck at that point.
He made up his couch-bed and turned the heat down a bit.
Putting the leftovers away he realised that tomorrow was the weekend; he could sleep in.

He didn’t sleep in. Benny was up at five and dressed by five-ten. It had turned him around to wake up on a weekend without her again, without her mouth pressing kisses….No. Don’t.
He made coffee and ate a crumpet with honey. The day would distract him.
And it did. He went out to work in the garden, it was easier out there, away from the house and in amongst the greenery and vegetables. Benny found himself humming thoughtfully and completely lost in busy work. It wasn’t until he heard Marty’s front gate squeak open that he noticed anything other than the chatter of the birds. He looked up and the two of them made eye contact for only a moment before it broke. Benny bit the inside of his cheek and dug down into the cool earth with his spade. Marty’s truck started in the drive and peeled out into the street with a rumble. Benny didn’t look up. He had that image in his head again. He only barely noticed the soft, grey and beige winged moth that flitted across in front of him and back towards the house.
Two hours of work later he was worn out and ready for lunch. Benny put the kettle on and finally plugged in his phone to charge, he hoped there weren’t any messages, but when there actually weren’t, all he felt was disappointment. She had done what he had asked and not responded. A moth landed delicately on the handle of his coffee cup. He shooed it away and stirred in the sugar and milk. His phone ringing on the bench startled him.
“Ma?”
“Baby Benny! Where have you been? I tried you last night but you didn’t answer.”
“My phone died, Ma. Everything okay?”
“Yes..”
He could feel her holding something back, “What is it Ma? Tell me.”
“Mia called me last night.”
“And? What did she say?”
“That you were…done,” his Ma deflated on that last word. “She said she wanted to say goodbye. And that she was sorry.”
“It’s true Ma. I don’t have anything left for her.”
Ma sniffed, “Baby Benny, women aren’t bad creatures. Even though God says so, girls are not awful. We make mistakes but we are just as real as you are, and just the same amount of human as you are.”
“Ma! I know that. I’m not a sexist fool.” He said it angrily, but his Ma had a way of putting things more clearly than she was aware of. Benny was only upset because Mia had come to a point where she couldn’t tell him of her unhappiness, she could only show him.
“Benny?”
“I’ve got to go Ma. I’m sorry. Mia won’t call again.” He hung up and dialled Mia with the phone stilled plugged in to the wall.
She answered, “Benny?”
“Hi.”
“Everything okay?”
“Please don’t call my Ma. She gets upset about this stuff. I know you guys are close but you’re verging on meddling, okay?”
“Okay.”
“This is done. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
He was desperate to ask her to come over. It was almost on his lips, “Mia...”
“Yes?” she asked.
“Goodbye.” He said it and hung up quickly. He didn’t want to let himself say anything more.
Benny kicked off his boots and abandoned them before he climbed the stairs. At the top he unzipped his jacket and draped it on the bannister. The day was still quite cold. It was only eight o’clock. The clock in the bedroom told him so. He could see it from where he stood outside the door. A moth danced by in front of his face and into the bedroom. Benny gave in.
On the edge of the bed he felt absolute comfort. He lifted his legs and slipped them under the covers. Despite her absence, he realised he had missed this place. He had yearned for it. And now, in his bed for the first time in a long time, Benny rolled over and enjoyed the feel of actual sheets and a decent pillow. Sleep took him quickly.
His growling stomach woke him — it was craving the lunch that he’d never cooked. He sat up, eyes still trying to focus, and saw that the clock said six-fifteen. PM? Jesus, he’d slept for a good ten hours. He got up and opened the closet door for some fresh clothes, only to have a swarm of at least twenty moths bloom out from the coat hangers and tie-racks.
What the fuck?
“Where are these goddamn moths coming from?” Benny asked himself out loud. He turned to watch them flutter off soundlessly out the bedroom door and towards the stairs. He padded to the bathroom, relieved himself, and washed his hands in the basin. As he shut the water off, a dozen grey and beige winged moths emerged from the drain grate and brushed past him, out of the bathroom and into the hall. Benny stumbled back, shocked, but coming up to the edge of annoyance.
It must be some kind of infestation. That made no sense —  he’d only had the house fumigated a couple of months back. As he stood swaying between the bathroom and the top of the stairs, a new bloom of moths emerged from one of the heating vents and swirled a little before taking off downstairs, towards the kitchen. In his haze, Benny hurried to follow them. Where were they going?
When he got down there they’d disappeared and he was starting to doubt his sanity just a little bit. His phone was lying on the kitchen bench and he couldn’t help but check it.

    benny, i still love you. i always will. i’m sorry it ended like this xx

He dug his fingers into his palms and struggled to keep in the tears that were so close again. He thought about how smooth and cool Mia’s skin always seemed to be under the tips of his fingers when he got home from work. How her eyes closed, so slowly, when he…
No. Don’t.
He hadn’t asked her all the questions that he’d wanted to ask. All the awful things that he never wanted to know but would still haunt him as long as he continued to not know. Like how many times? Like what did he do to you? And what did you do to him? And did you kiss him? And was he better? Mia hadn’t offered it up. Benny hadn’t asked.
He put his phone gently back on the bench and blinked his eyes over the image of Mia and Marty, just as another bloom of moths spiraled their way up out of the drain in the sink. Benny threw open the doors under the sink and grabbed the bug spray, immediately letting loose on the small swarm above his head. He had to step away from the suffocating mist and as he did so he realised it hadn’t really affected them at all. He tried again as they spread out to a thin layer and started landing on the ceiling but it was no use. They all just sat there, inverted above him, flicking their wings now and then. What did he do to you?
Benny opened the kitchen window in the hopes that maybe some of them would fly out. The cool night spilled in and he retreated to the living room with the leftover Chinese food and a scowl — he’d have to call the pest control guy in the morning, no way were these moths a good sign if he wanted to sell the house. He needed to fix the problem, and quickly.
The leftovers were good, but halfway through the cold black bean he heard Marty’s truck pulling into the drive next door. How many times? 
Benny suddenly lost his appetite and went to flick on the television. It wouldn’t work. He pressed the button a few times and then went around to the power point for an inspection. He jumped back from the wall. Did you kiss him?
The entire back of his flat screen was covered in a layer of undulating wings. Was he better?
Benny retreated for the bug spray only to find every wall of his kitchen lost to the moths. He couldn’t see his phone and the messages from his Ma, Mia, Marty — it was under the light brown, powdery blanket of insects. He got the broom from the pantry and started swinging, smashing into the walls, knocking tins off the benches, and sending glasses shattering to the floor.

* * *

“Son, is this your house?”
Benny blinked, “Yes. Yes, sir.”
The cop wrote something in his notepad, “Okay. And the paramedic is telling me you’re not hurt. Are you feeling alright?”
“No. I’m…the moths…” he trailed off.
The cop nodded, “Okay. He’s also saying you told him that you set fire to the house. Is that correct?”
Benny was staring into the flames. There was a blanket around his shoulders.
“Son, can you tell me what happened tonight?”
Benny shook his head and watched the fire eat his house.